The Price of a Promise
by Julia that writer-type person
Summary: Ceryni Thief. District 7 tribute for the 607th Hunger Games, determined to return home. But with a District partner madly in love with her, how can a girl concentrate on winning? Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.


"Ceryni, wake up." A hand shakes my shoulder, and I open my eyes groggily to find myself staring right into Amera's bright green eyes.

I roll over and groan. "No." I mumble, reluctant to leave my semi-warm bed. Today is the day of the reaping, I realize. I reluctantly roll out of bed into a semi-upright position, seeing Amera dressed in a little pink dress with a bow in her wild brown hair. I peer through the small gap between my eyelids at the dress my mother has picked out for me, which is sitting on the end of my bed. It is a forest green, the same color as my eyes, with a halter top and a long skirt.

There's a knock at my door. Astron pokes his head in, and I almost laugh at the expression on his face. He hates getting dressed up, and apparently Mom picked out his wardrobe this year. Even his hair is combed back in a neat fashion, which is unusual for him. "Amera, Mom needs you downstairs," Astron says, messing with his hair and trying to make it look semi Astron-like again. "Oh, and she says you need to get dressed, Ceryni."

Amera bounces out of my room with Astron leading the way downstairs, and I am left alone to get myself prettied up for the Capitol. I slip out of my night clothes and into my dress. My mother picked well. It fits perfectly, and somehow it brings out the green in my eyes. Something on my bed catches my eye and makes my throat close up. It's a single emerald green bead on a necklace. Riala's district token.

A few years ago, I had another sister. Riala. She was the female tribute for District 7 in the 605th Hunger Games. She was only twelve years old. When she died, it tore our family apart. Our father committed suicide. Our mom broke down. The only reason we survived was because Astron and I worked extra hard in the lumber mills, and even then, we barely scraped by with enough food for the family.

I push back the tears welling up in my eyes and swallow past the lump in my throat as I carefully place the necklace around my neck. I pull on the uncomfortable high-heeled shoes my mother has left out for me, then *click, click, click* awkwardly downstairs on the wobbly heels.

My mother smiles when she sees me in my dress. "You look lovely, Ceryni." Lovely. She never uses "elegant" words, *lovely*, for example, unless she's nervous. Who can blame her, after two years ago? Her eyes travel to the necklace I'm wearing, and though her smile remains, it does not reach her eyes, the ones so like Riala's, the ones so full of pain and grief.

"Thanks, Mom." I say awkwardly.

She looks me up and down, then says: "We need to do your hair. No good going on television with hair not worthy of the Capitol." Amera and I agree with a little too much enthusiasm, but it seems to go unnoticed by our mother. Even though she's only five, Amera knows about Riala. Amera was three when Riala died. Three is an age for memories. Amera's are of Riala.

The next hour is a blur of doing and undoing my hair until it looks perfect. I am relieved when my mother looks at the clock and gasps, "You're going to be late!" She quickly finishes whatever hairdo she was working on and shoves me out the door, calling for Astron to hurry up. I almost fall flat on my face when my heel gets caught on the door frame, but I instantly catch myself and hurry behind my mother.

When we get there, Anvyra Poren and Maple Wood, District seven's past victors, are already up on stage. Anvyra is observing the crowd with her intelligent green eyes. The mayor is finishing the same speech he recites every year about how the games started when Astron and I take our places in our sections. When he's done, Holly Korel, a representative from the Capitol, comes forward, all bright-haired and fancied up.

I can never understand what the Capitol considers "fashion". I don't get why they think it makes them beautiful to have rainbow colored skin or day-glow hair. Holly is one of those fashions I don't get. This year, she sports neon green hair and orange skin. Gold tattoos cover both of her orange arms. To me, she just looks like a pumpkin.

Holly approaches the podium while balancing on pink high-heels that must be at least six inches tall. She starts off by beaming at the crowd and introducing herself, though we all know who she is. "It is such an honor to be here in District seven." She punctuates her statement by putting lots of emotion in her voice and placing her hand dramatically to her chest. Holly finishes by wishing us a happy Hunger Games and crosses to the first large glass ball, the one that contains the girls' names.

I hold my breath as Holly swirls her tattooed arm around in the glass globe. She grabs a piece of paper, and the whole square goes silent. Nobody breathes. She opens the paper, and reads the name: "Ceryni Thief."

I can't breathe. I've forgotten how to. I feel lightheaded. Gentle hands are pushing me forward, and I stumble over my feet. A hand catches me, and I look to see it's owner. It's Astron. His pale complexion has become paler, if possible, leaving him as white as a sheet, drained of all color. I right myself, and walk forward with slow steps towards the stage. All eyes are on me. The cameras are on me. Tonight, all of Panem's eyes will be on me.

Scenes from Riala's Games are running through my mind. Riala's name being called. Riala's interview. Riala getting injured at the Cornucopia. Riala nursing her arm back to health. Riala making an alliance with the tributes from District five.

Riala dying.

I push from my mind the image of Riala's peaceful face the day they sent home the casket, instead concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, not tripping over myself like a complete fool. I keep my eyes to the ground, not making eye contact with anyone. I climb the steps and take my place on the stage.

Holly beams at me again, then walks to the globe that contains the boys' names. She swishes her arm through the names a few times, then pulls out a name. She opens it and reads it. "Mike Lane." I don't recognize the name, but a boy who looks to be about my age steps forward and walks toward the stage.

He holds his head high in that tough, boyish way that most boys his age have. He has brown hair with faint streaks of blond in it. His olive colored face sports a splash of freckles across his cheeks. I blink a few times and realize that he's quite handsome. He walks up the stairs of the stage with a confident air about him. His chocolate-colored eyes meet mine for a second, and my knees turn to jelly. I quickly look away. He takes his place onstage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the District seven tributes for the 607th Hunger Games!" Holly Korel cries enthusiastically, gesturing widely to the crowd. The crowd doesn't clap. Sound effects of cheering will probably be cut in by the Capitol later.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Holly cries in a singsong voice, making up for District seven's lack of enthusiasm, and Mike and I are escorted to the justice building.

We are led to separate rooms for tributes. I recognize the way because I came this way with my parents when Riala was a tribute. I am left in a room decorated in warm colors; blood reds, deep blues, warm oranges, velvety purples.

I ease myself into a plush, red sofa. As I wait for visitors, I play with my necklace. Riala's necklace. *No,* I tell myself. *I can't think of her like that.* This is my Hunger Games. I have to be strong. I've learned from her mistakes. I will win.

2 days ago, 11:46am

I hear a knock, and my first visitor comes in. It's my mother. The door closes behind her. She stands there for a moment, then drops onto the couch and hugs me. She begins to sobbing and stroking my hair. "Ceryni," she whispers, "I love you. Don't forget that. Ever." She pulls away, and looks into my forest green eyes. She touches the bead on Riala's necklace. "Never give up. Don't give up on me, Ceryni. Fight. And don't ever stop." She embraces me again, and I hear the door open.

"I will, Mom. Promise." Our time is up. My mom squeezes me tightly one last time, kisses me on the cheek, then leaves.

My next visitor is Astron. He plops himself in an armchair and studies me, probably looking for the right thing to say. "Come back alive, okay, Ceryni?" Probably about as sentimental as I'm going to get, but he surprises me. "You have to come back!" His voice breaks, and I realize just how close he is to breaking down like Dad did. He already lost Riala. He can't loose me, too. It would leave too big of a gap. He takes a deep breath, and regains his brotherly nature. He reaches across the table and ruffles my hair. "You'll be okay, little sis." Our time is up. We give each other an awkward goodbye hug, and he walks out of the room stiffly.

I have one last visitor. Amera. I tell myself I have to be the strong big sister for her. But she's the first to cry. She hurls herself onto the couch and presses her tiny body against mine. She looks up at me. "Ceryni, you're coming back, right?" Her huge green eyes, so much like Riala's, are brimming with tears. "You're gonna win. And then we're gonna have lots of food and live in Victor's Village and have lots of money and Astron can stop working in the orchards and. . .and. . . We'll live happily ever after! Right?" Happily ever after. Just the kind of thing a five-year-old thinks of.

I find myself agreeing. "Yeah, Amera. Happily ever after."

"Pinky promise?" She holds out her pinky.

I lock pinkies with her. "Pinky promise."

She buried her face in my dress again. "Love you, Ceryni."

"Love you too, Amera."

And that's that. I'm going to win. It's not just for Riala anymore. It's for Amera. And my mom. Amera has to go. She squeezes me tightly with her skinny, bony, five-year old arms, then she's gone. And I'm left alone with a little piece of Riala to keep me company, and a pinky promise to uphold.

* * *

><p><strong>And there's the first chapter! Sorry if some of the things are a little bit off, I read the series last year, and haven't been able to read them again since.<strong>

**~Julia**

**Jabberjay, Whovian, singer, YouTuber, songwriter, can't-wait-to-turn-15-er, actress, stalker, writer, and fangirl.**


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